Picture
Painted in the Canvas
As a choreographed ballet sways with balance and perfection, sunlight glistens
through silken shawls while a few lace ribbons float around with the wind.
Natures creations in full bloom, petals fluttering up a wind song as the breeze
whistles through bouquets of timeless beauty. Kneeling at the edge rows,
the wind rustles through my long silky hair; I become part of the symphony.
Immersed in this wondrous creation... I am forever, painted in the canvas.
by Barry Anderson
Enter My Fear
and the darkness shrouds the land in only misery's cries.
Enter grief!
A timeless ocean.
Trapped of despair, trapped without relief
Enter the moon!
Endless racing of the thoughts.
Including you alone, trapped dead inside an empty room
The dead is holding you stiff once more!
Staring into your eyes, never have you felt so gone before
The time comes again, to pit against all that is you
Will you ever find the part of you that is actually true?
Paint the sky bleak
Consider everything we cannot speak
The one painting with the sun I painted as a child is lost.
Reality has broken the barrier, this is the ultimate cost
Picture
Everytime you get a picture
You must make sure
Hope you don't fail
Or they might get black mailed
When I look at the picture of you
My heart goes boom
My eyes burn
My hands will hurt
You are soo dangerous
That's why i need to be courageous
If you let me take a picture with you
I will be just waiting in this booth
truth conquers all
.................
days and nights meld into one,
the sun an moon spar for my attention,
9,10,11,12, they begin to merge and look the same,
life becomes deranged, monotonous,strange,
yet all needs miraculously see their place,
no race for me, a gentle hand guides my pace,
still time to smell the cool breezes that visit,
still joy that fills my heart with each smile so freely given,
a baby's breath upon my shoulder,
watching as all of life becomes one day older,
younger in newly inspired tones,
melodious sounds, like music roams
every cranny of space in my soul,
rhythmic tides that flow in and out,
like the bubbling caps of ocean foam,
encumbrances placed in my path
become small, and me,
I become tall,
and just have to smile inside at the fact
i have the strength to face it all.
3:26 PM 7/10/2013 ©
"Vincit omnia veritas"
..........................
Photograph
dry and parched, the love we had,
deep in my memory,
i wander through mirages,
like this photo of you and me,
and though it's badly weathered ,
donned with cracks, it's fading shade,
the sweetness lingers deep within,
about the love we made,
my fist is clenched, the beads of sweat,
fragmented, splintered glass,
forever leaving one concern,
"Why can't i throw it in the trash?"
1:37 AM 6/23/2013 ©
If it's what you want
If words on a page
and pictures in a frame
are what you want,
then so be it.
but just know that one day those pages will fade
and those glass paned frames will break
as that trophy love you thought you had
slowly disintegrates.
I may not be a writer
or photogenic like her
but the love I can give you
will not deter.
So just remember,
the next time she writes you a poem,
or snaps a picture,
those, unlike my love,
will fade.
Pictures that I remember.
Photos are on my back and my face
The harm that was bestowed by each individual case
The photos on my back are from those you call friends
The photos on my heart are from when our love ends
The photos on my face are from the fights I've won and lost
But the pain is really what each picture costs
Hoping to go far and eventually become a star
But by the time I get there, from head to toe, I'll be covered in scars.
YOUR PICTURE-TUA FOTO-ITALIAN
Mentre guardo
al vostro
picture
cominciano a
luogo pennino
su.
Esso scompare.
Lasciamdomi
blank
cosi scrivo
questa poesia.
ENGLISH
As I look
at your
picture
begin to
place nib
upon
It vanishes
leaving me
blank
so I write
my poem.
(c) copyright heather burns
YOUR PICTURE-LA IMAGEN-SPANISH
Como espero
en see
imagen
comienzan a
coloque la punta
Se desvanece.
Me salia
en blanco
por eso escribo
este poema.
ENGLISH
As I look
at your
picture
begin to
place nib
upon
it vanishes
leaving me
blank
so I write
my poem.
(c) copyright heather burns